Gotham's cold rain at night always made the modern metropolis seem as if it were on the verge of collapse. Every night here was battered by wind and rain.
Within the lush steel jungle, pair after pair of eyes called to mind beasts in the rainforest. Guns were fangs, and ambition was claws.
In the pitch-black alley, the arc cast by high beams crept along the damp walls. The truck's massive headlights were like ghostly eyes blazing with fire, and the repair shop's boss shielded his eyes with an arm.
"Damn it! Is that poor bastard Vincent?" The dry, skinny repair shop boss, covered in motor oil, threw down his wrench and stood up, cursing nonstop. He shouted, "Those poor bastards ought to die in the sewers! Don't come begging at my place, you filthy, stinking roaches!"
But when the truck pulled up in front of him, the repair shop boss narrowed his eyes. In the driver's seat, he saw a deathly pale face. The driver wore bright red lipstick and split his mouth in a chilling smile.
The repair shop boss hurriedly staggered back several steps, then ran into the building in a panic.
The wrench he had just dropped happened to trip him, sending him sprawling face-first. Even lying on the ground, he desperately crawled away from the entrance, as though demons were chasing him.
"Joker Truck! The legend is real!!!" the repair shop boss screamed. "There really is a Joker Assassin driving a truck!!!"
"No... no!!! Don't kill me! I never offended you! I don't have any enemies! I have a wife and children! No!! Don't do this!!"
"Beep, beep, beep..."
A steady sound rang out. The repair shop boss scrambled toward the back door in utter terror, but the instant he neared it, the entire repair